


Playing with dragons never ends well

by sunshineandeyebrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Lydia being awesome, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pack Feels, Sheriff being awesome, a curse here and there, almost major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:05:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineandeyebrows/pseuds/sunshineandeyebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was a bit pale and his leg was almost completely covered by cast, but he looked peaceful with Allison's hand idly playing with his hair. Isaac was sleeping with his head on the bed and fingers linked with Stiles'. Boyd was talking quietly with Allison. Lydia was seeping coffee and browsing a magazine in the corner. The sheriff was on the phone, glancing from time to time at his son, as if he didn't want to let him out of sight for even a second of fear he might disappear again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing with dragons never ends well

"I'm gonna die a virgin," Stiles whined.

Derek gritted his teeth. The situation was bad enough already, he didn't need to imagine circumstances in which Stiles loses his virgin status as well.

"Shut up about dying, Stiles," he grunted.

Stiles whipped around raising his eyebrows in mocking surprise. His lip was busted.

"Have you suddenly discovered optimism inside your dark heart? Although, I should have expected that it will come out to the surface in a situation like this. Shit, it's cold," he added, rubbing his arms frantically.

Derek yanked him closer and put him snuggly between his legs, embracing him from behind.

"Whoa, dude! Are you aware I'm a teenager? It's the worst kind of position with someone my age! It can get awkward really fast!"

"Stiles."

"Yeah?"

"What did I tell you about shutting up?"

"Nothing! You only told me to shut up about dying, not about this! I have a need to talk about this."

"I don't, so shut up about everything in general," Derek said. "Scott will come soon."

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled and then, after a bit, "You're really warm."

"Duh," Derek rubbed his arms and shoulders and suddenly felt a pang. "You didn't tell me you're hurt," he growled.

Stiles slumped against him.

"Just my leg," he murmured quietly. "It's fine."

"No, it's not," Derek said sternly. "You're losing energy on dealing with the pain."

He started to draw it automatically and Stiles just let him, supporting himself on Derek's chest.

It was quiet and Derek didn't like it as much as he thought he would. Stiles fell asleep after a while, because of the warmth or possibly the lack of pain, Derek didn't know. He suspected it was the oxygen deprivation, though.

They were sealed tightly by a giant rock in a small cave, a spell preventing Derek from freeing them. The air had been getting thicker since about half an hour and they had been there for at least three. Scott needed to hurry the fuck up or the pack would become shortened of two members.

"Derek…! Derek!" Stiles slurred suddenly, his heart quickening and scent spoiling with panic.

"Shh, I'm here," Derek soothed.

"Okay," Stiles wheezed. He was too hot, hurt leg and thick air probably affecting his body and causing a fever. "Can you just– can you pr’mise me somethin’…?"

"What is it?"

Stiles made the effort to twist and look him hazily in the eye.

"Don't die before me."

Derek felt the words like a slap to the face.

"You– you want me to watch you die?" he said, breath starting to come short.

"I can't take it," Stiles' eyelids looked really heavy. "I can't– not another death– just– please…"

"No one's dying here, Stiles," Derek said. "Don't say anything, we should save what's left. And don't think about it."

Stiles smiled then. It was heavy, his lip started to bleed again, eyes looked big and desperate, but he had never looked more desperately, amazingly beautiful than right this moment.

"Who would have known… a sourwolf like you– is gonna comfort me… in a moment like this…"

"Yeah," Derek grinned, all teeth, with blood still bitter in his throat and Stiles' pain in his veins. "Who knew you won't be th’ optimistic one."

Stiles twisted again, tightening his long fingers on Derek's forearms. Derek could smell something salty and guessed why Stiles doesn't want to look at him anymore. There was also strong, sour tinge of longing, laced with a small bit of contentment, as if he wished it didn't have to end like this, but it could have been worse. We could be separated, Derek thought.

Stiles whispered something under his breath, losing his grip on Derek, but the man didn't hear it. He asked quietly what was it again, but Stiles didn't answer. Some time passed and Derek's sight was barely catching anything. Stiles had passed out a long few minutes before. Maybe hours. Derek had completely lost track of time. He mustered the rest of his strength and hugged Stiles' body, mumbling an I love you in his ear. Or maybe not. He wasn't sure if the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure if he's still breathing, he wasn't sure if Stiles' heart is still beating, because he couldn't hear it. He wasn't sure of anything. The last thing he heard was a loud rumbling sound and something that made his blood rush again, something familiar and safe. Or maybe he didn't hear it at all.

***

Stiles woke up to unclear shouts and something weird covering the lower half of his face. He was trying to move, but his leg got stuck and something held him in place. That was the moment he started to panic.

He completely lost his breath, heart pounding, but then he understood something. If he lost his breath, it meant he had a breath to lose. He wasn't dead. A voice reached him and the words cleared out after a few seconds.

"Don't move, you're in an ambulance, you're okay," a woman in red said, voice strong but calm.

His hand was squeezed. He looked down.

"You're fine, man. You're safe," Scott said. His eyes were this close to glowing red.

"Derek," Stiles said, but the thing on his mouth muted the words. An oxygen mask.

Scott got it anyway.

"He's okay too, I promise."

Stiles nodded.

"Your blood pressure is going back to norm," the woman said. "Relax, we don't want you passing out again, okay?"

Stiles nodded again.

"Good," the woman smiled.

Scott grinned at him blindingly.

His dad ran into the room they were putting a cast on his leg in like the hall was on fire.

"Son! Scott tells me you almost suffocated! Are you okay?! What the hell were you doing in the woods again? It always ends like this, I'm gonna ground you until you're eighty!"

"You're not gonna live that long, old man," Stiles slurred, accepting a strong hug. "I'm gonna get out at at least seventy eight."

"Who's an old man!" the sheriff huffed, cuffing him gently around the head.

"Love you, dad."

"I swear I'm gonna do something you'll regret very much the next time something like this happens, keep that in mind," his dad grumbled, hugging him again.

"We're going to keep you for the night," the doctor said suddenly, finishing with the cast. "Your reactions are mostly okay, but we should monitor you just in case."

His dad smiled suddenly and Stiles had a very bad feeling of what will come next.

"I think he needs at least three days here," the sheriff said sweetly. "Don't you think, doctor?"

The doctor tried hard not to smirk.

"If the sheriff says so," he said faux seriously.

Stiles whined.

"No! I'm gonna end myself out of boredom!"

"I'll send Scott sometimes," his dad waved a dismissive hand and walked out of the room to talk privately with the doctor.

Stiles slumped on the bed, staring at the ceiling until a fly caught his attention. The door opened when he was quietly encouraging the fly while it was trying to find crack in the opened slightly window.

Lydia slipped in gracefully and sat on the end of bed wordlessly. Stiles waited, gulping.

"If you weren't injured, I would poison you with wolfsbane," she said sweetly with a deadly smile.

Stiles suddenly thought he understands how a deer standing on the road with headlights closing in feels.

"It wasn't my fault," he defended himself weakly. "I'm the only virgin in the pack, that's why they took me!"

"It is your fault," Lydia snapped and Stiles felt his pride being crashed brutally. "If you acted on your feelings, there wouldn't be problems like this."

"We're not talking about that, you promised not to talk about that!"

"That promise didn't include the situations in which you almost die," Lydia huffed. "Feelings are important sometimes, Stiles."

Stiles sighed.

"I don't want to hear about my stupid feelings for Derek right now, okay? Or ever! I don't want to hear about them ever."

Lydia leveled him with an intense gaze.

"The point is, you're causing problems for everyone by your… status."

Stiles winced and then perked up.

"Then why did they take Derek?"

Lydia wondered for a moment.

"He's the only born wolf here," she shrugged. "Maybe he's valuable as a magical creature, a sort of “treasure”. Who knows."

"Ha! So there would be problems," Stiles said smugly. "He would still be a magical creature, even if I wasn't a virgin."

"I suppose," Lydia said. "But then he would have dealt with it and wouldn't have had to take care of you."

Stiles pouted.

"I don't like you, you know," he mumbled begrudgingly.

"Nonsense, you love me," Lydia said absently, glancing at her watch and then at the door.

It opened quickly and Isaac burst in looking agitated, Boyd calmly coming in after him. Isaac looked around chaotically for a second, then rushed to Stiles to scent him and examine his body. Then he practically deflated with relief.

"You're okay," he said.

Boyd was apparently satisfied with sniffing the air to confirm Stiles' state. Lydia smiled.

"Perfect timing, I was just gonna call you. How is Derek?"

Stiles felt a bit guilty for not trying to find out sooner, but Scott told him Derek's fine. He believed Scott with his life.

"He wants to come and check on Stiles," Isaac smirked. "But Scott and Erica are holding him in place. He seems fine, but Deaton wants to be sure there are no serious consequences of almost suffocating."

"So he's fine?" Stiles asked and glared at Isaac when he smirked hearing the nervous hope in Stiles' voice.

"Mostly. He probably healed completely already," Boyd said.

The door opened again and Allison peaked in, also rushing to Stiles and hugging him with relief.

"You're lucky you're injured, because I would've damaged you myself otherwise," she huffed and Stiles wondered how is it that all women in his life are so scary.

He was lucky Erica was busy dealing with Derek.

"Sorry," he mumbled and Allison hugged him again.

They all sat there then and talked casually over his head, until Stiles fell asleep, exhausted from the events of the night. Allison's hand was soothing and constant on his head.

***

Derek finally freed himself of Deaton's examinations and unclear statements. He grabbed Erica and Scott and practically threw them into Melissa's car, wordlessly reaching out his hand for the keys. Scott didn't say anything either, as he passed them.

"Don't pout at us, Derek, you almost died, we had to check, if you're okay," Erica hissed.

She got used to Scott being the alpha too fast for Derek's taste. At the beginning she wouldn't even dare to tell him to do something, but she had changed and matured so much in her own direction, Derek was sometimes afraid of her.

He glared at her, but she just huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Dude, please, just drive, I wanna see Stiles," Scott said tiredly.

It was a long night for all of them. Scott and Lydia should be the most tired ones, but Derek suspected Lydia looked as fabulous as always. They were the ones who broke the spell and fought off the damn dragons. Scott barely stood on his feet by the end, if what Erica had told him was accurate, but he still managed to move the rock with Isaac; Boyd knocked out with Erica and Allison trying to drag him back to the car.

Derek started the engine.

Stiles was a bit pale and his leg was almost completely covered by cast, but he looked peaceful with Allison's hand idly playing with his hair. Isaac was sleeping with his head on the bed and fingers linked with Stiles'. Boyd was talking quietly with Allison. Lydia was seeping coffee and browsing a magazine in the corner. The sheriff was on the phone, glancing from time to time at his son, as if he didn't want to let him out of sight for even a second of fear he might disappear again.

Erica grumbled something about not even waiting for her awake and snuggled on the bed close to Stiles. Scott sat on the end of bed, touching Stiles' other leg through the covers and checking if there is any pain yet to draw. Derek sighed and slumped on a chair, grabbing Stiles' hand. There weren't any signs of too low or too high temperature. It was just warm, and the feeling of it was the thing that made Derek finally calm down, even though he hadn't noticed he had been on edge all this time.

He also didn't notice when he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, they were all being chased out by a nurse, Stiles waking up and being utterly confused because both his hands were immobilized and his chest held in place, Scott trying to calm everyone down and Allison with a scary expression. And then Erica was being yelled at for sleeping with Stiles in the bed and Derek saw in her eyes the hell that could be unleashed at them any second now, especially if Lydia stood right beside her with her most poisonous smile.

But then Melissa came in and got the situation under control, asking all girls and Boyd to go out into the hall politely and scolding her son to somehow contain his own people. Then she gently woke up Isaac and threw him, confused and sleep-ruffled, and Scott out. The sheriff asked sweetly, if two people are okay and both nurses left. Derek could hear Melissa talking with the pack outside. She was probably the only person in the world Erica respected enough to listen to. Derek would really like to know why.

The sheriff yawned discreetly and informed them he's going to get coffee. And just like that, Derek was suddenly alone with Stiles, who still seemed confused and had an impressive bed head. And their hands were still connected.

"You're really okay," Stiles rasped, giving him a lazy smile.

He didn't let go of Derek's hand, squeezed it even.

"Yeah. How long do you have to stay here?"

Stiles grimaced.

"Dad tried to frame me into three days at least."

Derek smirked.

"At least nothing will happen to you during those three days. When you get out, you'll come back to being a reckless dumbass and get yourself stuck in deep shit in no time."

Stiles made a poor attempt at swatting his arm and when it didn't work, he pouted.

"It's not my fault!"

"If I was Lydia, I would have probably told you it was, like always," Derek said, poking his tongue out at him.

"Really mature, Hale," Stiles grumbled, showing his own tongue too. "And she already did, thanks."

Derek snickered and Stiles slapped his torso. There was a bit of silence; Stiles was playing with Derek's fingers absently.

"If it happens again," Derek said suddenly, looking Stiles in the eye. "I won't let you die, no matter what."

Stiles got this expression that said don't you dare say it was your fault, but then he became weirdly bashful, running away with his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Derek frowned and squeezed his fingers to make him look up.

"For what? None of this was your fault."

"I told you not to die before me."

Derek's eyebrows raised on his forehead.

"Stiles, I get it."

"No," Stiles' voice became stubborn. "It was stupid, I didn't have the right. Especially, if it was you."

Derek grimaced. He didn't like to remember how many deaths he had seen.

"You were deprived of air, Stiles," he said finally. "I won't hold you responsible for whatever you said back then."

Stiles' scent suddenly completely changed and the guilt and sorrow turned into embarrassment and nervousness.

"What?" Derek asked, feeling lost.

"Nothing!" Stiles said quickly. "Never mind!"

Derek squinted at him, but if he was a stubborn person, Stiles was ten times worse and it was impossible to get out of him something he didn't want to say.  
Someone cleared their throat in the door and they both snapped their heads in that direction.

"I'm going to work, kids. Don't kill each other while I'm gone," the sheriff said. "Although that seems unlikely now," he muttered, looking down at their joined hands.

They both jerked away, blushing, and the sheriff snorted with amusement as he left.

"You should go home and rest," Stiles said after a moment of awkward silence.

"It's fine," Derek said.

He didn't want to leave Stiles for even a second. Maybe he was becoming paranoid, but he had a feeling something will happen again if Stiles stays alone.

"It's not," Stiles said. "At least lie down here," he added, patting the bed where Erica was just a while ago.

Then he flushed spontaneously, as if he only now understood what he's suggesting. Derek decided to go for it, because why not. He's been itching to touch Stiles for a long time, especially now, after the boy'd been hurt and everyone managed to scent him and check, if he's fine already, apart from Derek.

He clambered on the bed, listening to Stiles' impossibly loud heartbeat and snuggled closer. Stiles was completely still. Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

"You were the one who suggested it," he reminded.

Stiles nodded stiffly. His face was still red.

"Don't blame me for my poor life choices, I blame myself enough already," he mumbled.

Derek felt an unpleasant pang in his chest.

"I can always get up."

"No!" Stiles said, a bit too quickly and the color on his face deepened. "I mean, it's fine, don't mention me, just sleep."

"Your heart is too loud to sleep," Derek grumbled, but Stiles' reaction eased that weird feeling enough for him to bury his face in Stiles' neck easily.

"Again, not my fault," Stiles muttered.

After a while, Derek felt his long fingers dip in his hair unsurely.

He relaxed minutely, remembering the touch from his childhood years when first his mother soothed him that way and then Laura.

Stiles was apparently able to relax a bit as well thanks to that. He fell asleep first. His scent was content, if exhausted, and that was enough for Derek to fall asleep too.

***

"I'm going to die here," Stiles whined when the third day of his stay in the hospital didn't even start.

He was so bored, he couldn't stay in place and was all over the bed.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek said absently.

He has been in the hospital for two whole days and probably got so used to Stiles' whining, he didn't even feel irritated anymore. That maybe wasn't as good a sign as Stiles thought at first.

After Derek’s comment about not holding him responsible for any words he had said in that cave, Stiles was sure Derek had heard him then, but Derek didn't seem to change his attitude at all. Stiles didn't know what to think about it.

Suddenly, the door opened. Derek didn't even twitch in his place by the window with a book. The doctor that was taking care of Stiles came in.

"Okay, you're out," he said, looking over Stiles' patient card.

Stiles blinked at him and then crowed triumphantly.

"I would have let you out yesterday, but the results of your tests came only now. You're fine to go. Here is your prescription and instructions when to use the medications. I'm afraid you won't be able to take care of yourself alone though," he added, frowning. "I advise hiring some help."

Stiles grimaced, a dark feeling of guilt coiling in his stomach.

"Yeah. Thanks, doc," he said quietly.

Derek was looking at him intensely, but he dropped his gaze somewhere else.

"You should dress," Derek said, as if he didn't smell Stiles felt suddenly a lot worse, even though they both knew he did. "I'm gonna go get you some crutches."

When he was left alone, Stiles felt even more miserable. His dad would probably say it can't be helped and sacrifice the little money they have to hire a daycare nurse. Stiles gritted his teeth and proceeded to pull on his pants. It took almost five minutes. Then there was knocking and Allison peaked in.

"Oh sorry," she said, seeing him shirtless and frustrated, flailing around to fold the material around the cast.

"It's fine," Stiles panted.

It was fucking exhausting.

"Here, let me," Allison said, and magically, after just a few seconds, Stiles was ready to go.

"You're the best," Stiles informed her with feeling.

"I know," she smirked. "By the way, Derek is waiting outside with crutches for you, I think he didn't want you to get embarrassed?"

Derek opened the door with a scowl.

"It wasn't that," he grumbled. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Allison grinned and trotted after them.

Stiles didn't tell his dad about what the doctor had said. His dad also didn't mention hiring anyone to help, but somehow Derek was there every time Stiles had trouble climbing the stairs or taking a shower. He didn't agree for help with the shower, so Derek put him a chair inside, so that he could wash himself.

"Have you talked to my dad?" Stiles asked casually the day after he got out of the hospital and Derek helped him get down the stairs after spending the night on the couch.

"Why?" he asked, dumping eggs on Stiles' plate.

"Don't bullshit me, Derek Hale, did you tell my dad you're going to help me until I can walk normally?" Stiles asked, noting absently that his breakfast is delicious.

Derek looked at him for a moment, but didn't answer.

"Are you feeling responsible for what happened? Derek, not everything that happens is always your fault! I would be fine, probably, Scott could come by after school and it would have been enough!"

Derek turned away his gaze.

"I can't leave you alone," he said.

Stiles forgot about his food and the fork stilled midair on its way to his mouth.

"I–" he said intelligently. "I don't know what to say."

"I'll let you get used to it, because that's probably a first for you, so let me know when you're done," Derek said, standing up to pour himself coffee.

Stiles, obviously, didn't take long.

"What does it mean?"

Derek was looking out the window.

"What does it matter?" he said finally. "I make you food and carry you up and down the stairs, isn't it enough?"

"No," Stiles said instantly. "I won't let you off, I need to know this."

Derek looked at him then and his eyes seemed so open, so raw, Stiles almost turned away. He had to muster all his will not to do that.

"I couldn't hear your heart," Derek said and Stiles felt a sharp ache in his chest. "You were lying in my arms and I couldn't hear it. I won't watch you die again."

"Shit, Derek," Stiles whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, dumbass," Derek huffed.

"Maybe, but I am sorry either way."

There was a bit of strange silence; Derek wasn't looking at him. That was the moment Scott picked to burst in.

"Stiles, you won't believe it, I bought the new Call Of Duty, we need to play–" he stopped in the threshold. "Derek? You're here? What's wrong, you both smell weird."

"It's fine, buddy, don't worry," Stiles said absently, still looking at Derek. "We should play. And you should take care of yourself for a change," he added to Derek.

Derek flinched and Scott grimaced.

"Stiles–"

"No, Scott, it's okay," Derek cut him off quickly and Stiles had a sudden unpleasant feeling he did something wrong, but had no idea what.

Before he could do something about it, Derek was gone.

"Scott, what was that just now?" he asked immediately, but Scott wasn't looking at him.

"You should be careful of what you say," he mumbled and it was weird to hear that from the sunshine and puppies Scott, but Stiles felt bashful anyway.

"I'll talk to him later," he said.

Scott grinned suddenly.

"Good, let's play!"

***

"Don't make me wait so long," Derek heard right after climbing through the window into Stiles' dark bedroom.

"You were the one who told me to go," Derek said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice completely.

Stiles could be sometimes recklessly cruel, and the morning, or the whole day for that matter, wasn't one of Derek's best. He couldn't help feeling dejected after he was so casually exchanged for Scott as soon as the alpha showed up. He could also feel Erica's and Isaac's scents linger in the room. It didn't make him feel better at all.  
Stiles sat up on the bed, his scent a powerful mix, making Derek dizzy.

"That's what this is about?" he asked quickly. "Derek, I don't want you to be stuck with me here just because you have a strong sense of responsibility! You don't have to be here!"

"But I want to be here!" Derek almost yelled, losing all sense of self-control. "Shit, Stiles, I don't want to take my eyes off of you because you can disappear again! And it's scary, okay? I finally have someone again, I don't want anyone to disappear! Is that so hard to understand?!"

Stiles looked at him in the dark, his heart pounding and scent full of miserable longing, masked a bit by guilt.

"Come here," he said quietly, patting the bed beside him.

Derek suddenly understood what he had just said, how he exposed himself, and his first instinct was to run. He fought it though, wordlessly sitting next to Stiles, feeling nervous.

"Give me your hand," Stiles murmured, reaching out his own.

Derek did. Stiles slowly grasped it and pressed it against his chest.

"You can feel it now, right? My heart. You don't have to listen to it. Sometimes it's better to touch, so if I'm still warm and my heart is still beating, if you can feel it, it means I'm okay."

Derek looked, fascinated, as their joined hands moved along with Stiles' breathing. He felt calmer, like something that had been missing all day clicked into place. He nodded slowly.

"Good," Stiles said, quirking a smile. "Then now we should go downstairs so that you can make me food."

"So I'm your maid now?" Derek grumbled.

"I can even give you an apron," Stiles snickered.

Derek cuffed him around the head. They managed to argue twice during the dinner and then Stiles declared he's not moving and spread himself on the couch, complaining about the pain and his leg itching. Derek passed him the painkillers and sat down, putting Stiles' legs on his lap.

Stiles sighed contentedly.

"Where have you been all my life?"

Derek felt embarrassed all of a sudden, something warm and aching bubbling in his chest.

"Living peacefully, away from your irritating existence," he mumbled, flicking out a claw to try and scratch under Stiles' cast.

"Who's irritatin– oh shit, so good, oh yeah," Stiles moaned shamelessly and Derek shouldn't let his imagination run wild, he definitely shouldn't. "You're the best."

"Stiles," Derek said, voice getting intense, hands itching to pull the boy up into his lap.

He noticed what he's doing only when his fingers reached Stiles' hips and he heard a quiet, "Derek?"

He snapped his head up, Stiles looking at him with flushed cheeks and shining eyes, his scent rich and full of confusion and curiosity. Derek moved away, taking his hands off and almost getting up.

"Wait," Stiles said, catching his wrist. He withdrew when Derek looked down at it. "Can you just– stay like this? It hurts less that way."

Derek didn't hear a lie in his voice and he was entirely too weak to deprive Stiles of comfort, so he stayed in place, watching some stupid reality show until Stiles fell asleep. It wasn't even that awkward. Stiles was so unpredictable, he could completely twist the awkwardness so that it would be present in the most normal situations, but not in those where it should have been. Derek managed to relax so much, he didn't even notice when he passed out too.

***

Stiles jerked awake to the sound of someone clearing their throat. Derek huffed in his sleep and snuggled closer, burying his face in Stiles' neck. Stiles had no idea how they ended up so close on the couch but it was deliciously comfortable, something he would have never associated with his old couch before.

His dad raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Stiles hissed very quietly.

"Nothing," the sheriff shrugged. "It's just not the view I would have expected after coming back home."

Stiles untangled himself and jumped after him to the kitchen.

"It's not my fault, I just fell asleep," he grumbled, falling down onto a chair. "Did you hire Derek to be a daycare for me?" he asked, squinting suspiciously.

His dad didn't pay his expression any mind.

"It was his suggestion," he said calmly.

"You can't let him feel responsible like that!" Stiles hissed.

His leg was hurting again.

"It's not that."

Stiles stopped short.

"Did he tell you why he wants to do this?" he asked curiously. "You heard about how he thinks something will happen to me, if he's not there? And about not wanting to lose anyone anymore?" he grimaced because of the very thought.

"So he told you about that," the sheriff commented after a while.

Stiles could feel there was more to that.

"What else did he say?"

His dad poured himself coffee. It was around five, if the pale sun visible through the window meant anything.

"If he didn't tell you himself, I can't say either."

Stiles gritted his teeth.

"You should be on my side," he mumbled begrudgingly.

"I am, mostly," the sheriff dismissed. "You're just both big idiots," he added gruffly.

"What?" Stiles whined. "That hurts, dad, you cut right in the feels," he added dramatically.

"You should take your meds and go to sleep," his dad said, completely ignoring his charade. "In your bed. Alone," he added, looking at him scarily.

Stiles pouted.

"Fine. Help me get upstairs?"

"Sure, son."

Stiles thought he won't be able to sleep, but his eyes closed the moment he touched the pillow. It was a bit colder without Derek's unnatural heat, but so much more comfortable.  
He thought about Derek's secret that his dad knew, of all people, for all of two seconds, decided to get it out of him by any means necessary and then he was gone.

***

"Thank you."

The sheriff looked up at him, his face tired, but eyes clear and intense.

"You heard us."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Derek said.

He had been awake since Stiles left him alone on the couch.

"Sorry for falling asleep like that," he added, but the sheriff just waved a hand at him. "I thought you'll tell him."

"Yeah," the sheriff sighed. "I almost did. He should know something like that."

Derek turned away his gaze and clenched his jaw. He didn't want to tell. It wasn't that easy. Right now, he had Stiles so close, he could reach out his hand to make sure he was there. If he told, there could be no Stiles anymore. Not as close at least.

"I know you're scared, son, but I know my own kid," the sheriff interrupted his thoughts. "He wouldn't be able to leave you. And I know I was surprised at first, but someone who's the most important person to you should know that much."

Derek came back to the conversation they had when Stiles was still in the hospital. He had thought the sheriff is going to shoot him, but he needed to tell someone what he'd been bottling up inside for almost a year now. He'd been almost as surprised as the man, though, when the words had left his mouth so easily.

Stiles is the most important in the world for me now, please let me protect him.

The sheriff had looked at him with such shock, Derek had been afraid it's the end of his miserable life, but then the atmosphere was suddenly different.

"Well, you will have to share then, because he's the most important for me too," the man had only sighed and clapped his shoulder heavily.

"Like you said, sir, we're both idiots," Derek muttered, smiling a bit.

The sheriff squinted at him the same way Stiles always did and smirked.

"Big idiots," he corrected, getting up to head to bed.

"Yeah," Derek said to the empty kitchen. "Big idiots."

He sat there for a long time, listening to Stiles' and the sheriff's calm heartbeats until it was late and he felt a familiar scent.

Isaac came in quietly, heading straight into the kitchen.

"Why are you sitting here?" he asked instead of a hello and poured himself coffee.

It took a lot of time for Isaac to feel comfortable in someone else's territory, but when he did, nothing could stop him and everyone more or less accepted him as a sort of younger brother, always there, often annoying, sometimes sweet and practically always stealing food. Derek was kind of proud of him anyway.

"Why shouldn't I sit here?" Derek growled irritably.

"Don't know, just thought you'd be sleeping with Stiles," Isaac shrugged.

Derek felt his eyebrows raise on his forehead.

"I–"

"Everyone knows, man, relax," Isaac muttered, busy looking for something to eat.

"What?"

Isaac looked at him with wide eyes, an apple in his teeth.

"Well, you love him, right?" he said, like it was obvious.

Derek blinked.

Isaac rolled his eyes.

"Erica and Lydia are waiting for you to talk to them about it," he smirked at Derek's face. "You thought you're hiding it well."

Derek scowled.

"Don't worry, Stiles doesn't know," Isaac added, now messing on his phone. "He's a dumbass," he wondered for a moment. "Scott probably doesn't know either."

"But, apart from the morons, everyone…?" Derek made sure.

"Yeah. Boyd was probably the first one that noticed."

Figured.

Isaac finished eating and threw out the core.

"If you're not going to sleep with Stiles, then I will," he informed, already on the stairs.

Derek deflated along with all the air leaving his lungs. Dealing with his former betas was sometimes really draining.

He stood up, searching for his sweats, and went for a run. Sitting in Stiles' house all the time was giving him ideas and he had barely held back from growling at Isaac for sleeping with Stiles in his bed. It was even worse that the little shit most likely knew what he's doing. Derek would have probably ended with scratched out eyes, if he tried to sleep with Scott or Allison.

When he went back, Erica was in the house with the boys. All three were a pretty strange picture with Stiles braiding Erica's hair in focus, Erica sitting on the floor in front of the couch and painting Isaac's toenails fluorescent pink, and Isaac twisted weirdly, doodling something on Stiles' cast.

Derek stood above them.

"Children, dinner," he said sardonically. "You can play again later."

Erica grinned widely.

"Look, daddy's back!" she said with faux enthusiasm.

"Daddy!" Isaac said, smiling. "Look, I drew our family! You're right here!"

Stiles laughed loudly and joyfully, pulling Derek, so that he would bend over the cast and see something that must have been his face drawn with two thick lines as eyebrows and fangs instead of teeth, circled in a heart. There was a stick figure next to his drawing that had an uneven jaw and red eyes, with another three around it, every with characteristic features of Isaac, Erica and Boyd. There was also Allison with a bow and Lydia with orange hair. The drawn sheriff was frowning and had a giant star on his chest, Stiles next to him with a cast on his leg and evil grin. There was even Melissa in her nurse uniform.

"Pretty, huh?" Isaac asked.

Derek looked at him unimpressed.

"I'm not even gonna comment on this."

"You don't have to, we know you love it," Stiles said dismissively. "Isaac, call Scott and Allison, I'll call the rest. We're watching Disney."

Erica crowed. Isaac's eyes lit up. Derek sighed long-sufferingly.

"I need a shower first," he muttered, heading upstairs.

"You should find a towel first!" Isaac yelled after him. "No one wants to see your stuff apart from Stiles!"

There was a loud thud and an even louder ouch! and Derek shook his head, sensing Stiles' embarrassment in the air.

"He knows where the towels are," Stiles grumbled.

"He does? Derek, do you live here already?!"

"Shut up!" Derek shouted.

Isaac didn't need to know he also had a change of clothes here.

***

They watched Mulan twice. Derek was humming "I’ll make a man out of you" for the next three days. Stiles felt good with the world, despite mild irritation caused by his leg still stuck in a cast.

"At least it's pretty now," Boyd said one evening after a whole day of Stiles' whining.

Everyone gaped. Boyd shrugged.

"Why am I the only one who can't say stuff like that?"

"Because you're Boyd!" Stiles explained enthusiastically.

Boyd pouted and Allison patted his head, without stopping her conversation with Erica for even a second.

The door banged and the sheriff came in.

"You're here again," he pointed out casually.

Lydia smiled at him sweetly from her place by Erica's feet. Stiles had no idea what was it with the women in their pack and their obsession with painting nails. His were already bright red. Derek was the only one who escaped that fate, excusing himself to go shopping. Scott managed to run after him only after one of his hands was already purple.  
The sheriff shook his head at them, pretty much used to everyone occupying his living room. Boyd was somehow the only one who could get away with sitting in his chair.

There was one more week to taking off Stiles' cast and he was alone for a change, watching YouTube late in the night, when his window opened and suddenly he was pressed to his door, feet above the ground and Erica's wolfed out face inches from his own.

"Where the fuck is he?!" she growled, shaking him.

Stiles was confused, a bit scared and unable to say anything because of the clawed hand on his throat.

"ERICA," Scott said with so much power, Stiles felt it in his bones.

Erica flinched and loosened her hold, her face human and full of guilt.

"Who is where?" Stiles rasped. "And could you put me down?"

She did, smashing her cheek against his apologetically.

"Something's wrong with Derek," Isaac said.

Stiles didn't even think to point out that he does have a door. Again. His chest squeezed with panic.

"You can't find him?" he asked quickly.

Scott shook his head.

"I just know he's hurt."

"You were probably the last one who saw him," Isaac added.

Scott was seriously agitated and if Stiles could sense it, he didn't want to imagine how the betas felt.

"He was here this morning," he said. "But then I took a nap and I didn't see him afterwards."

He grabbed Erica's hand reassuringly.

"We need to find him," Scott said decisively.

Stiles nodded numbly.

"Where is the rest?"

"Lydia's with Boyd, trying to hear something," Isaac said. His fingers were clutched around Scott's wrist. "Allison is talking to Chris."

"We should move," Stiles decided, looking around for his crutches. "You should go first, I'd just be slowing you down. Can you track his scent?"

"Stiles. You can't go."

Stiles snapped his head up. Scott was looking at him with a painful grimace.

"What?"

"You can't even walk normally and I don't want you to get even more hurt. I can't let you go."

Stiles blinked.

"Scott, I have to go," he said with feeling.

It was true he maybe wasn't the best help in normal situations and much less as a cripple, but it was Derek. He couldn't sit around and wait. Not now.

But Scott understood. Scott always understood.

"Fine. But you're with me at all times."

Stiles nodded frantically.

"Okay, get on," Scott added, turning around.

Stiles scrambled onto his back.

He had no idea how it happened, but sometime later he woke up on cold concrete ground in a dark place. He groaned, his head pounding, and looked around. He wasn't even surprised when he saw metal bars and Derek lying in the other corner.

"We're actually in a cage this time. How is that even happening?" he said with resignation.

Derek tried to shrug. He was panting, blood drying on his face and body.

"Have you tried bending the bars?"

"Wolfsbane."

"Have you tried covering them with something?"

"Why do you think I'm shirtless?" Derek gave him his bitch, please face.

"I don't know, because you actively seek out opportunities to undress and distract me?"

Derek just huffed.

"What was it this time?" Stiles asked after confirming that they can't escape neither down nor up.

He could more or less make out their surroundings. It was a storage building of some sort. There was a lot of boxes around and that was pretty much it.

"Hunters," Derek wheezed and Stiles flinched with a sudden dread attacking his gut.

"Why the fuck haven't you said so from the beginning?! I thought you were healing!" he hissed, hopping to Derek. "Dammit, couldn't they wait until my leg is fine," he grumbled. "Did they shoot you?"

Derek shifted a bit to give Stiles better access to his chest and clenched his jaw. He was pale. There were two bullet wounds. Stiles reached to his pocket and took out a few bullets that he carried around at all times.

"Let's hope they use the same ones," he muttered, searching for a lighter.

Ten long minutes later, Derek was slowly healing and Stiles was trying to wipe himself off of blood with Derek's discarded shirt.

"I didn't know you had such things with you," Derek said, which meant you're unexpectedly useful, thanks.

"You're welcome," Stiles said. "Do you smell anything? Something that could help us get out? Scott maybe?"

Derek sniffed around and shook his head.

"Hunters, gunpowder, metal, plastic, wood, wolfsbane, my blood, you," Derek counted.

"Shit," Stiles mumbled. "Can you feel, if they're okay?"

"They're angry and confused," Derek said. "But mostly okay."

Stiles sighed deeply and sat on the ground.

"At least we have air this time," Derek tried, smirking.

Stiles laughed, grabbing his hand on impulse, but then Derek was suddenly on his feet, growling at the darkness.

"You two seem to be enjoying yourselves."

Stiles saw now what Derek was growling at. There was a man that looked like a cartoon villain standing in front of the cage.

Stiles openly rolled his eyes, snorting. It was getting old, really.

"Oh? I see we have a cocky one over here. It seems I underestimated you a bit, so why don't you come out here and tell me what was so funny?"

Stiles smirked.

"Seriously, dude? It's always the same, you know. You catch us because you want to catch the true alpha and we're bait. Every time. Unless it's different now?"

The hunter smiled and because of that smile Stiles for the first time felt uneasy.

"Yeah, we wanna kill the true alpha, that's true," he said and waved his hand.

Suddenly, other people came out of the dark. Derek growled and at least three bullets landed in his chest. Stiles flinched from the sound and then glared at the man, trying to get to Derek.

"Nice look there," the hunter was now the one smirking. "We wanna kill the true alpha, but he was the only one that didn't let us catch him."

One of the men circled around the cage and grabbed Derek through the bars, careful not to get bitten. He slammed cuffs onto his wrists. Derek howled and even though Stiles tried to prevent it, he wasn't able to. Derek was now chained to the wolfsbane covered bars, snarling from pain and rage.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Let him go!" Stiles yelled, but no one was listening.

He was dragged out of the cage and brutally put in front of the leader.

"So we decided to have a little fun," the man continued, as if nothing happened. "We gave the true alpha a choice. We put all of you in pairs. He will have a certain amount of time to save you, but he won't be able to save all. I wonder, if he will let his almost brother and the Second die, or maybe the two people that he's in love with, which is a bit sick too, but whatever. There are also his two betas. It will be interesting."

"You're the one who's sick," Stiles hissed hatefully.

He couldn't move at all. The hunter suddenly lost good humor and grabbed his neck the same way Erica had some time ago. The difference was that he couldn't hope for being released just like that.

The hunter slid a hand into his pocket. Stiles head-butted him, his throat be damned. The man spit out the blood and laughed, forcing him to turn around and taking out the rest of bullets from his pants. And then he grabbed his ass.

"You've gotta be shitting me, dude," Stiles growled, using the cast to kick his leg. It hurt like son of a bitch, but the guy swore too and his grip strengthened even more.

"You wanna play games, pretty boy? Sure, let's play."

His ass was groped again and he tried to get away, but couldn't. He suddenly felt like throwing up. He glanced at Derek, but quickly looked away. He didn't need to know what kind of face Derek had when he was being humiliated like that.

He heard a growl then. It was so ominous, even his blood speeded up from fear. He felt the hunter flinch and couldn't help glancing at Derek. Derek's eyes were blue and his face wolfed out. Stiles had never seen such rage in his gaze. He was sure, if not for the bullets and cuffs, Derek would have turned into his complete form.

"Your dog doesn't like this," the hunter panted into his ear and Stiles almost puked right then. "I think that's enough too. We'll try something else now."

Stiles was free for a split second and he almost fell from the sudden loss of balance, but then hands gripped him again and there was something heavy on his chest and something tight on his neck. He felt his stomach swoop when he looked down. 

"It should be fine, if you don't move too much."

He glanced up with hatred.

"If your friend doesn't get here fast enough, it won't be fine, of course."

The hunter smiled widely and pushed him back into the cage.

"Have fun anyway!" the man called before disappearing. "We sure will!"

Hideous laugh rang in his ears as he sat down on the cold floor.

"Derek," he said, looking down at his chest that was now wired and glancing up right into electric blue eyes that were too wide with shock. "I think I'm starting to panic."

***

Derek was staring at Stiles, scared and desperate, and had no idea what to do.

He wanted to kill that hunter. He didn't know how long it'd been since he had felt so much rage and he didn't bother remembering the last time.

That man dared touch Stiles. He dared touch his Stiles. No, not his. Not yet, maybe not ever.

Derek wanted to sink his teeth in that guy's throat and rip it out. He wanted to gnaw at his insides and pull them out. He wanted to claw his eyes out, strangle him, snap his neck.  
But he couldn't do anything right now. The wolfsbane was doing its job and he didn't have any strength left already, the pain fogging his mind.

Stiles needed him now, though. Derek tried to sit up a bit.

"Stiles, listen to me," he slurred. "You need to focus on regulating your breath. Just like normal, okay?"

"I– I can't," Stiles wheezed. "It's ticking, Derek, I can't!"

"Okay," Derek wanted desperately to be able to touch him now. "Okay, then listen to my voice. You can do this. I promised I won't let you get hurt again, right? It wasn't a lie. I've never lied to you, Stiles. Sometimes I didn't tell you things because I didn't want you to get hurt, but I've never lied, so trust me when I say you can do this. Do you trust me?"

Stiles' breath was now too even to be natural, but he seemed calmer.

"Of course I do," he said.

Derek felt his own heart skip.

Stiles took one last big breath and his scent came back to norm as much as it could in a situation like this.

"Okay, it's fine now," he said and moved closer in one sudden move.

"Stiles!" Derek hissed, panicked.

"It's okay," Stiles soothed. Derek had no idea how he could change moods so fast. He appeared completely calm and composed now. "If he could push me like that, it means he was bluffing and I can move. I just can't take it off because of this fucking collar,” he added with spite, tugging at the metal clasped around his neck with the help of a lock with a code, that prevented him from removing the bomb. “Just let me see those wounds."

Derek straightened as much as he could. Stiles reached down into his sock and pulled out three other bullets and another lighter. Derek gaped. Stiles smirked.

"He underestimated me more than a bit."

When Derek wasn't as close to death anymore, Stiles took out a paper clip from some magic place.

"Stay still as much as you can," he said, shuffling even closer and starting to pick at the cuffs. "I'm a bit worried about Boyd and Erica," he admitted quietly.

"I'm a bit worried about all of us," Derek huffed.

Stiles looked him in the eye seriously.

"We'll be fine."

His heart didn't stutter, but somehow Derek couldn't believe it anyway.

"How do you know that?"

The cuffs were tearing his skin quite a bit.

"Scott will definitely find Isaac and Allison, and Lydia will know about the rest of us," Stiles said and Derek felt a hopeful pang in his chest.

He had completely forgotten about Lydia.

"She wasn't caught?" he asked anyway, just to be sure.

"That guy said pairs. Lydia must have slipped away. The question is, will she come here or there. Because if she comes here, they might not be able to make it. And you’re closer to death than them, probably. It all depends on her ability to take control over her banshee instincts."

Stiles was focusing really hard on undoing the cuffs and his tongue stuck in his teeth was distracting. Finally, Derek was free.

He instantly started examining the bomb. They had fifteen more minutes. Suddenly it seemed like a very short time. The collar was covered in particularly painful species of wolfsbane. Derek was barely able to touch it before hissing and jumping away.

"I'll get us out of here," he said, looking up into wide bourbon eyes.

Stiles only nodded, brows furrowed and eyes focused, and Derek understood now that he had to be doing something not to let himself think about it.

"I'll try with the lock now," Stiles said.

It was quiet for about three minutes. Finally, Stiles slumped next to him with a sigh.

"It's too complicated, I can't pick it," he grumbled.

"There is wolfsbane on it too," Derek said instead of I can't do it either, and then, just to say something, "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Stiles snorted bitterly.

"Just my dignity."

Derek remembered his rage, but stopped himself from roaring. It would just bring the hunters to them.

"I'm going to kill that man," he said, voice low and dangerous.

Stiles flinched and his eyes widened even more. Then he kind of deflated.

"Oh shit, Derek, no," he muttered. "You can't, okay?"

Derek didn't understand. It was frustrating that Stiles was protecting the man that did such a thing to him, to them.

"Why the fuck no," he growled.

"Because you've never killed anyone and I don't want you to start now."

Derek flinched, his gut wrenching with an uneasy feeling.

"Stiles, my eyes are blue, do you know what–"

"I know," Stiles interrupted him, eyes too intense. "I know, Derek. I'm sorry."

It was like the words opened a bottomless pit in his stomach. His heart started hammering twice as fast. He gulped, throat dry.

"Who– who the fuck told you," he asked, more whispered than anything.

He didn't remember when he had been that scared before.

"Cora," Stiles turned away his gaze and there was pain in his scent.

Derek realized he had taken a step away from him.

"Peter," Stiles added and Derek clenched his teeth.

But then he remembered something.

"I killed Peter," he said coldly. "It's not like I'm not a murderer."

Stiles grimaced, his scent becoming sour.

"Killing Peter doesn't count," he muttered. "He's alive now. And you did what was necessary."

Derek took another step and a bitter laugh bubbled in his throat.

"If I start thinking that… if I treat killing Peter as necessary– as something that didn't make me into a killer, then Paige was–"

"No," Stiles said and that one word held so much power, Derek felt it in his bones. "You need to stop thinking that every single thing that's happened is your fault. It isn't, you can't blame yourself forever! And I'm gonna make sure you stop! I'm gonna make you happy, even if I have to do it by force, so don't start being a killer now, because I have to get rid of what has happened before first and–"

Derek kissed him. He had no idea where it came from or why now, but that was the only thing he had in mind right this moment, a desperate itch, strengthened by the nearing death maybe. Stiles stilled, the only sound their furiously beating hearts and ticking of the bomb. Derek pulled away, looking right into those shining brown eyes widened with shock. And then Stiles grabbed his face, smashing their lips together with as much force and desperation as Derek had before.

So they were kissing as if they were fighting, there was a time bomb between them and metal bars around them, and suddenly it didn't matter at all. Only the feeling of each other's heat counted. Derek sensed something new in the air, but that wasn't important either.

Until it was.

"I'm not even surprised."

They both jerked away, looking around. Chris Argent stood in front of the cage with a massive gun and a smirk.

"Oh shit, I forgot about you!" Stiles said happily.

Chris grimaced.

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"He means there is enough people now to save everyone," Derek explained, feeling completely out of place.

"Yeah…" Chris raised an eyebrow. "Do you actually want that bomb defused or are you having fun and I should leave you to it?"

Stiles moved to the bars. Chris examined the bomb.

"You need to be out of there, if I'm supposed to be able to do something. Step back."

Derek grabbed Stiles and helped him move to the other corner. Then Chris raised his gun and the lock was gone. So was the bomb, two long, stressful minutes later. And then Stiles was somehow in his arms, shaking uncontrollably.

"Thank fucking God," he mumbled into Derek's neck and then magically collected himself in three seconds. "Let's get the rest."

Derek nodded. He just wished everyone was fine and saved on time, because he desperately wanted to sleep off the events, preferably in the same bed as Stiles.

The counter on the bomb stopped at three fifteen.

***

"I honestly thought it couldn't be any worse," Stiles stated after the cast was taken off and he saw how his leg looked like.

It was thin, pale and ugly, but most of all – weak. Well, what could be expected when he had to suffer with the cast for another ten days because of "damaging the leg further".

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek said.

They were sitting on Stiles' porch. Well, more like Stiles was sitting and Derek was lying in his lap, wordlessly demanding scratching behind the ears with his eyes closed in the afternoon sun. He had gotten spoiled, bastard.

They were stretching until just a while ago to move around Stiles' muscles a bit, but Stiles was grumbling too much, Derek was irritable too much and now the situation was what it was.

"Can't believe my dad didn't shoot you," Stiles muttered.

"He knew before you did," Derek purred. "He almost shot me then."

"He knew?!" Stiles huffed.

"He agreed that I help you recover just because I told him you're the most important and I want to protect you."

Stiles felt his face burn.

"Y–You, something like that– I uh–" Stiles stuttered.

"Eloquent," Derek muttered.

Stiles swatted him on the chest.

"Shut up!"

Derek opened his eyes at the same time as he caught his hand. They flashed blue and then they were wrestling on the warm porch. Suddenly, Derek stilled. Stiles watched as his dad stepped over them with a thanks, son, and they were tossing again. Stiles realized he's laughing at some point and, what's much weirder, Derek was smiling too.

Eventually Stiles ran out of breath and Derek hovered over him with something intense in his eyes, something too serious.

"I said something to you in that cave," Derek whispered. "I don't know if you heard me–"

"I didn't, probably," Stiles interrupted, scared of that seriousness. “I said something then too."

Derek smiled, small and private, just for him.

"Then I guess we should leave it at that?"

Stiles grinned widely and Derek's lips followed, all teeth, right before they closed down on Stiles' in a fast, passionate kiss.

"Uh, gross," Erica said.

Derek ignored her; Stiles didn't.

"Like you don't do that with Boyd all the time!"

"Seriously, guys, stop," Scott groaned, a hand over his eyes.

Isaac bit him in the neck and Allison laughed as Scott shrieked.

Lydia huffed indignantly and stepped over him and Derek to get inside the house. She had found all of them and instructed Scott and Chris on how to defuse the bomb. Stiles couldn't comprehend how she could be so beautiful and so smart at the same time.

"Stilinski! It's your house and I want tea, make me some!"

And so scary.

"I'm going, I'm going! Anyone else wants tea?"

He counted raised hands and cocked an eyebrow at Derek. Derek sighed deeply, but Stiles knew it was just for show, because he gave him a piggyback ride inside like always.

"Next time I'm gonna be better prepared," he decided sometime later when it was just him and Derek again.

"Next time I'm gonna fulfill my promise," Derek said. His hand was dangerously close to Stiles' crotch. "But for now," he flipped them over on the bed and proceeded to leave marks on Stiles' neck. "Let's hope there won't be a next time and have some fun."

Stiles smirked, reaching down to Derek's pants himself.

"Bring it on, big guy! Let's see if you can take my breath away like that cave did!"

"You're ridiculous," Derek muttered distractedly.

"And you're a sourwolf."

"Shut up."

___


End file.
